An Ocean Breeze Dipped In Ink
by Compelled
Summary: Demyx wants to make Zexion happy. Zemyx


Glaring down at a thick book, spine cracked and worn, the pages a light ghosting yellow. The soft smell of the crisp pages was interupted by that of a fresh, clean linen-esque smell. The smell of water. Zexion's fingers tightened, wrinkling the page he was turning as the subject of his thoughts crept quietly into the library. Demyx approached bashfully, sitting as quietly as he could in the chair across from Zexion, who was tensed over the book, resisting all urges to glance up.

"Zex... I- Do you think I'm stupid?" The question caught Zexion off gaurd and the old book slipped through his fingers and landed with a 'thoomp' on the ground. His eyes darted up to peer at the scarlet-tinted boy through his periwinkle bangs.

"Who called you stupid?" Niether could ignore the harsh, biting tone behind Zexion's words, but he was too furious to be ashamed by it.  
"Was it a superior, because whatever happened probably wasn't your fault you are pretty ne- was it Larxene, Vexen... I'd say Axel but with Roxas dosing his fiery-" Zexion's spine tensed, and he stopped his growling snarl when he noticed Demyx's wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

"No one did. I was just wondering. I feel like sometimes everyone thinks that because I'm so emotional." Demyx responded, standing slowly and replacing himself next to Zexion. He perched on the edge of the couch and turned slightly toward Zexion, thier knees almost touching. Zexion scoffed loudly, turning his head toward the other.

"Being happy doesn't make you stupid, Demyx." He stated, raising an eyebrow as Demyx muttered.  
"Come again?"

"You hardly ever seem happy, Zexion... I know, stand up!" Zexion was thrown another curveball as Demyx completly changed the subject. He obligied however, and stood. Demyx let out a tiny squeal of joy, taking one of Zexion's hands and forcing him to swirl in a faster, very fitting slow dance with him. They danced and Zexion kept a careful watch on Demyx's eyes as they did so. They way they flashed, what they looked out, the way his pupils dialated. All of it was under crucial observation, Zexion trying to pinpoint a formula or pattern in the erratic nocturne's behavior. He couldn't find one, and instead tried to figure how to dance to no music, with this odd warped waltz style that Demyx was aiming for. He was basically skipping, and spinning around, still clasping Zexion's hand in his. Soon, much to Zexion's shocked chagrin; the boy looked so happy, Demyx began to stop thier twirling, and his light laughter, staring down at the floor.

"Thank you... I'll leave you back to book if you wish." Demyx stated softly, but making no move to let go of Zexion's hand, rather rubbing his fingers lightly over the small knuckles. Zexion nodded in agreement, but rather than stepping backward toward his discarded book, that he honestly couldn't remember the topic of, and the couch, he stepped toward Demyx.

He stared at his lovely eyes, his peculiar hair, and slowly dropping smile. Zexion's heart constricted as he began running over possible reasons as to why the angel's smile has disappeared, but the realized that his entire face had soften, and he was leaning toward Zexion expectantly. Zexion nodded lightly, pressing his lips to Demyx's, hugging him close. He shuffled them backwards and onto the couch, pulling Demyx onto his lap. Their lips meshed together, and Zexion ran thin finger's over his uke's neck, causing him to part his lips more. As things began getting heated Zexion pulled away reluctantly.

"No..." he muttered quietly, pulling the boy close to him. Demyx slid over to Zexion's left slightly, curling into the latter's body.

"I know..." Demyx replied, holding tight to the lilac vixen with a final chaste. "I know..."

Zexion was glaring down at the thick book, it's spine cracked and worn, the pages a light ghosting yellow. The soft smell of the crisp pages was mingled with the sweet, clean smell of water, and his fingertips ran over smooth innocent skin, and knowing tarnished paper. He still couldn't pick up on what exactly this book was about, with breath that felt like dew huffing on his neck. And it was Zexion's turn to feel bashful. 


End file.
